


... Ever Since I Found My Fame...

by Fangirlingmanaged



Series: God Knows I... [11]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt Tony, M/M, Protective Bruce, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Steve Feels, Steve Has Issues, Steve Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5380106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlingmanaged/pseuds/Fangirlingmanaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce hasn't kept the Hulk contained as long as he has by letting his emotions guide him. He needs to see Tony, but he also needs to know what happened. All of it because he can't imagine his family tearing itself apart over a murderer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	... Ever Since I Found My Fame...

**Author's Note:**

> BRUCIE-BEAR IS THE MOST AWESOME LITTLE BABY EVERY, OKAY. BUT HE GOT ME WITH ALL THE FEELS AND I HAVEN'T SLEPT BUT THAT'S OKAY BECAUSE HE EXPRESSED HIMSELF!

Bruce should have known better than to think that he could hide from a super spy. Arguably, the plan had been Hulk’s more than his, but he had shared the sentiment with him. What he and Natasha had tried to do… what they’d tried to start with each other… in hindsight it was such an awful idea. Part of what had lead them together was the fact that everyone else on the team had seemed to have their own thing outside of the team. Truth was, though, that Bruce is glad that the Hulk had taken that choice from him. Being by himself… it wasn’t ideal, God he missed their family, but it had made him more aware.

Now, as he comes out of his abode somewhere in the western islands near New Zealand he can’t help but be thankful that they were able to get off grid for a while. Sure, Bruce could withstand a lot of stress, but even he had his limits. He wishes he would have been called back for something less devastating than knowing his partner in crime had been beaten. He wishes he could have been called back for something other than their damned stupid team leaders fighting, _again_. He wishes he could have been for both of them.

As the quinjet lands a few feet away, he hopes that he can control Hulk enough to not cause any more destruction to any part of New York than he’s already hurt. Hulk is… protective of certain members of the team. Admittedly, Thor was treated as an annoyance but Bruce had always known that Hulk had a soft spot for the god. They were just like Clint and Tony in some instances. Natasha held the key to controlling him better than anyone else, her tenacity and calm and begrudging sweetness helped keep him calm. Cap was seen as some sort of higher up; when he talked, the Hulk listened. Clint was more… like a pet; Hulk liked to play with him, and he would be cross if anything happened to “Birdy.”

Then there was Tony… the idiot that had tried to play a lullaby with him in the shiny red suit. The idiot that called him a monster, but had never seen him as such. The idiot that had poked and prodded and admittedly helped Bruce keep calm the most. Hulk’s “Tin-tin” and Bruce’s reluctant “Science Bro.” The broken kid that reflected the same fucked up daddy issues, and self-hate issues, and fear of turning into the monster they thought they were.

“Bruce,” Natasha’s crisp voice pulls him from his reverie. Dear Lord, she’s beautiful. A part of him wishes he could make himself see her the way he had before. If he’s reading her face correctly, she might be feeling the same thing.

“It’s good to see you, Tasha,” he manages to give her an awkward smile. He wants to apologize, no, scratch that he _should_ apologize, but then she has her arms wrapped around him before he can say anything.

When she pulls back, she’s smirking at him. Well, that says everything, doesn’t it? “We better get you home, Doctor. It seems there’s a patient that needs seeing to.” That sobers him quickly.

“How bad are they?” He watches her face for any of the tells they’d all learned to discover whether or not she’s lying to hem. There’s no minute twitch of her mouth, no slight crease between her eyes, no quick look to the right… she’s sincere enough, then.

“They tore his reactor out,” she says bluntly. Bruce digs his fingernails into his palms, and sees her hand go to her right thigh. He’s sure his skin has a sickly green, and he tries to calm himself down.

 _Ah, come on, Banner. You’re gonna let it win? I mean, I like seeing the other guy and all, but you can’t just give in,_ he imagines Tony’s mischievous smirk, the laid back way he used to twirl his tools around. _You’re made of sterner stuff than that, Brucie-bear._

“And Steve?” he cannot believe that Steve is not suffering as much right now, if not more. Merely because as he had been made aware, Tony had yet to wake up. He’d have to see Tony for himself, but he has a feeling of why the genius isn’t waking up.

“Has what he deserves,” Natasha hisses in response as she clicks her belt in. Bruce turns sharply to her; so that’s how loyalties had divided. Bruce can’t say he isn’t surprised.

“Is that what we do now?” Bruce asks quietly. Any other time he would have cowered at the dark look she shoots him, but he doesn’t know. He wasn’t forced to pick a side as they obviously had, and though he may be more partial to Tony than Steve he can’t hate the other man. He’s known them both for the same amount of time, he’s seen them at their best and their worst, and he refuses to think that neither of them was torn over this. “Turn on our own?”

“He did it first,” she tells him harshly. Ah, sweet reunion it seems, he thinks wryly. “He chose to go after a ghost that he clearly no longer knew. He tore everything down for a stranger.”

“Isn’t that what you did?” It’s a low blow, and he knows it. Sees it in the way her hands clench, and though he’s loathe to hurt her like this… this senseless hatred isn’t getting them anywhere. Sergeant Barnes had been lost for seventy years, sure, but Bruce can’t believe the man who fought along Cap could turn on his own beliefs to the point of going after everything he’d fought against. Bruce knows a bit about hurting people without meaning to, at least. “Why did you side with Tony, Tasha, when Steve was always your first choice?”

“He was wrong. He was wrong to pick Barnes over the people who had fought with him, who had let him in, who had trus—“she breaks up to bite at her lip. So that’s what this is. She’s angry at the belief of his betrayal.

“How long has it been,” he starts calmly, staring out the front panel of the quinjet. “Do you think for Cap since he last saw Bucky? How long has it been for him since the war?”

“That doesn’t matter! _We_ have been with him since he woke up—“

“Can you imagine what it’s like, Tasha?” he says quietly. He certainly can, this much he is sure of, imagine what it’s like to be torn from everything he knew and loved because of something he cannot control. “To think your friend, no maybe friend isn’t a good enough word we all know the stories, has been dead for… a bit over five years, and then suddenly realize he’s not? Can you imagine what it would be like to know Clint, know he’s the one that saved you and taught you to be better than you could ever be, and then see a killer and not know why it’s happening? Can you imagine what it would be to look into Clint’s eyes and not know who he is?”

She stays silent. She doesn’t even deign him worthy enough of her icy glare. He heaves a sigh and throws his head back. He’ll have to keep his control for as long as he possibly can if he’s to help any of them.

 

Natasha doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the trip home. When they get to the new facility she doesn’t speak as she leads him down the different corridors. It’s got the familiar feel of the SHIELD hellicarrier up until they get to what he thinks is the Avengers’ wing which feels more like the refurbished tower Tony had gifted them with. As he’s taken into what he assumes as the communal floor he hears the voice of what sounds of a reporter.

 _“—own terrorist the Winter Soldier has been cleared of all charges, it seems. Despite the many killings under his name he has been pardoned by the President and certain members of Congress for his horrible acts. It seems ridiculous to me, and I’m sure many of my fellow Americans will agree, that they’re trying to paint him as this victim. I mean, are we seriously going to believe him to be Sergeant Barnes? Haven’t we been told that Captain Rogers was the only one who had been gifted with the serum that allows—“_ there’s a crash from the living room, and Natasha stops dead in her tracks. She looks ahead as if she’s debating whether or not a fight is worth it at the moment.

“Barnes can take you to the medical wing,” she finally says. Then she turns, brushes brusquely against him, and disappears down the hall.

Bracing himself for an appearance from the Hulk, Bruce makes himself walk into the communal floor. As he had suspected, the television has a major hole in the screen. There’s a man with long hair sitting on the floor in front of the couch, he’s sitting crossed legged on the floor, and his head is cradled in his hands. The sound of heavy breathing echoes harshly in the room.

“You know,” Bruce says as he quietly approaches the other man. That metal arm is probably doing a number on his scalp. “If you want to get actual news, I’d stay away from Fox News.”

The other man’s head snaps up, and Bruce gets a glimpse of the man in those surveillance cameras. The ragged, slightly feral man that had tried to kill his best friend. There’s a warring rage and desperation in the way his arms wrap around himself as he stares at Bruce.

“I thought they were _news_ ,” he chuckles quietly. He’s breathing a bit easier, at least.

“Mmm, they might like to think they are but the rest of us disagree. I wouldn’t trust much of what you hear on the television, anyway,” the other man looks at him, and Bruce gives him a serene smile. Despite what his friends have gone through with this man he can’t see him as anything but broken. He can’t see him as a heartless killer. When the other man just keeps staring at him, Bruce extends his hand for a shake, “Bruce Banner.”

The other man extends his slowly, and then tilts his head. He squints his eyes up at Bruce as if trying to figure out a puzzle, and then starts slowly, “you’re… a scientist? Um… y-y-you have a… a… a weapon? Some… power? They… they used to talk about you… used to… they used to try to… get the same thing? I think…” the effort of remembering seems to hurt him, and his hands go immediately to his temples. After a few minutes of quiet breathing where Bruce just crouches next to him and lets him get through whatever flashback he has, Barnes looks at him again. “Sorry, I have trouble remembering things. It’s—every day is—it’s hard to remember every day. I—get flashes. Things get—they’re blurry and—sometimes I can’t tell when I look at someone if I should—maybe they’re right, you know? Maybe I shouldn’t—“

“A green monster because of gamma radiation,” Bruce tells him quietly. How are you still sane? Is what Bruce wants to ask him. How can you still have enough willpower to try to figure things out? How do you keep fighting? Barnes’s head snaps up to meet his eyes, and Bruce gives a sheepish smile. “It’s what I am, my… weapon. I was experimenting, you see, with gamma radiation. It… went wrong, and I has hit with a lot of it. It makes me turn into a sort of… well, _enormous green rage monster when I lose control_ is how Tony would describe it.” Bucky chuckles, and Bruce counts that as progress. “I imagine Steve has told you, but when we met Wanda she used her powers on me to mess with my head… showed me things… Skrulls they were called, and they were everywhere. Looked like my teammates, and I… I turned and tried to take them down. I could have… I could have killed Tony; I didn’t know if the Iron Man I was seeing was him or it was me… I don’t—it’s taken a long time to realize it wasn’t me.”

“It _was_ me, that’s the problem,” Bucky tells him quietly. He’s got that faraway look Bruce saw on everyone’s faces after Wanda played havoc with all their heads. “It was my hands that killed people,” they’re laying limply between his legs and he curls them into fists. “I can hear them sometimes. I can hear what I’ve done… the flashes I get… they’re brief and they’re few but… it’s enough. It’s enough to know that I became the _monsters_ I tried to destroy. Tony’s could have _died_ , and it was because o-of me.” He heaves himself to his feet before Bruce can say anything and quietly walks out the room.

Just what have they done to each other in here?

 

Seeing as Barnes left before Bruce can ask where Tony’s medical room is he ventures back into the hallways on his own. It must be solely for the Avengers because he doesn’t see anyone who looks like a SHIELD agent. As he walks by what looks like an entertainment room he catches a glimpse of Wanda and—is that—there is no way.

“Doctor Banner,” Pietro grins at him even if there’s tension in his expression. He’s holding on to Wanda’s hand, but she snatches it away and walks out of the room. Pietro sighs. “I guess you’re here to check on Mister Stark?”

“Yeah, I was trying to find the med wing, but,” Bruce shrugs his shoulders. _How are you even alive?_ Is what he really wants to ask, but refrains.

“I’ll take you,” he strolls out of the room and to the right in the hallway. As they’re passing what looks like the weapons storage rooms, Pietro throws an easy smile over his shoulder. “Bet you did not see this coming, Doctor Banner. Clint made SHIELD save me. They kept me in some underground facility until I was well enough to be allowed to join the rest of the newly reformed Avengers. I didn’t have a chance to, well, I’m sure you know.”

They fall quiet after that, though Bruce is secretly glad he isn’t the only one whose loyalties have taken a toll now. If Wanda’s reaction is any indication then Pietro hadn’t been as on board with what happened as she would have liked. After the weapons rooms is what starts looking like a hospital. They pass through surgical rooms and decon rooms until they reach the recovery rooms. Pietro leaves him in front of 221, and then disappears the way they’d come.

Without peeking through the window, Bruce eases the door open slowly in an attempt of not disturbing Tony if his condition had developed in the last few hours. Instead of sarcasm and sass, he hears quiet, broken words.

“You’ll be so mad, won’t you, sweetheart?” Steve is telling Tony quietly. He looks rundown; he’s wearing a wrinkled shirt that has obviously seen better days and his hands are shaky as they hold on to Tony’s limp hand on the bed. “That we let you waste so much time. _Days, Steven! Days, you let me sleep. How could you do that? How could you be so cruel to my poor bots? Dummy! You left Dum-my al-alo-alone,”_ Steve breaks off harshly.

Bruce can’t imagine what it feels like for Steve to want Tony to wake up so bad that he has to imagine him like this. His attention, though, isn’t held by the shock of seeing Steve so broken for long. Tony—he looks… well, he looks like he’s been overrun by two super soldiers. He looks like he’s being held together by stitches and surgical tape and bandages more than himself. He’s been in hospital for about two weeks, Bruce thinks, and it’s barely made any progress. There’s a patch of shaved hair on the left side of Tony’s head that Bruce can see, so a cut there maybe by getting his head hit on something. Probably someone pushed him. His eyes are bruised and his nose crooked, so broken nose. There’s an array of cuts on his face, and one that seems to have cut from his cheekbone. Steve’s fingers keep caressing over an angry looking bruise on Tony’s wrist. Then there’s the worse thing of all, there’s the skin around the reactor that looks like an array of angry purple blotches, _internal bleeding from the shrapnel pieces, Christ._

“Steve,” there’s an underlying snarl in his voice, but Bruce can’t do anything about it. Seeing any of them hurt always brings the Hulk out, but this… this sort of damage is hart to control. It’d be hard for _Bruce_ to keep in line, and it’s only because he’s gotten such a tight leash on the other guy that he can control his rage. His _protectiveness,_ which had been triggered since the moment he’d received Nat’s message, for his family.

“Hello, Doctor Banner,” Bruce notes that this is the first time the other man has called him that in months. Bruce takes a minute to look at him, to note the tenseness of his spine and the almost manic way in which he’s stroking over Tony’s pulse. One of his fingers beats a tempo over Tony’s pulse. He’s hunched in on himself, like he could shield Tony of anything else that could come out to hurt him, and part of Bruce thinks that they count in that category. Every Avenger might be in the Captain’s watch list for his lover.

“How is he?” Bruce asks even as he makes his way to the chart clipped to Tony’s bedrail. Successful surgery with a good chance of recovery, thank God. Bruce studies the chart of the injuries, already planning the best way to get the idiot to comply when he wakes up. There’s nothing stopping him from doing it but himself, it seems.

“It’s cruel of me, isn’t it,” Steve tells him. He ignores the question, it’s a platitude at this point they’ve both surveyed the man’s injuries. Steve has probably obsessed over them in the last two weeks. Has catalogued and studied and cared for every single one of them. What else would he do?

“What is?” Bruce barely bites off the _beating him near death?_ That threatens to escape his lips. That will do nothing for any of them; will make Bruce feel better for a bit before the guilt of torturing Steve makes him regret it. There’s plenty of pain there, Bruce thinks as the soldier meets his eyes.

“That there’s a part of me that’s glad he’s not waking up. I know he will, there is no oth-other option. But… at least if he’s not awake, he’s not aware that the monster that hurt him is with him. He doesn’t know that I keep—that I’m still _tainting”_ he spits out the word like it’s venom in his mouth. “Him with my stupidity. Bucky says that I don—that I have no right to walk away, but… what else can I do?”

Bruce remembers how many times he’d heart the soldier say that before.

                                                                                             ***

The first one was hazy like all the memories that the Hulk kept of their battles, but the first one was from the very first time they fought together. Looking up as the shiny red and gold of Tony’s suit made it out with a nook carried on his back, and didn’t come back. When Natasha had hesitated for the first time since the whole fiasco started, and had asked for permission. When Steve was clenching his jaw till it gritted.

_Close it._

_Cap, he’s still out there._

_Close. It._

And then, very quietly, _what else can I do?_

That had been the first time, but it was certainly not meant to be the last. There was also the time, right after the Avengers when Tony kept being an ass about bonding with the others that Steve had come into the labs. Had come _bumbling in_ as Tony liked to describe it as if it were a bad thing, and Bruce had been assisting Tony with a new development for the renewable energy he was trying to patent. Steve had been sweaty from another bout of training with the others, and had had a blush high on his cheeks. Bruce had noticed the way Tony had stared at him longer than necessary, the way his hands had paused and he’d given his complete attention to him. Something he didn’t do for _anyone_ else, not even Bruce when he was trying to explain something particularly complex that they’d need to do and Tony had never done before.

This wasn’t the first time the Captain had come and “interrupted their precious bonding time” as Tony liked to grumble. He’d tried to get Tony to join in on their Avengers bonding, and though he’d tried to get Bruce to come, too, it was clear where his focus laid. Bruce would just shrug off whenever he’d tried to make more of an effort to invite him, and had said that Tony was the one that needed convincing. That particular day, Tony had been in a foul mood from his visit with SHIELD. Had said something or other about “over-perky SHIELD agents that tried to over-share with stupid super soldiers.” And had snapped at Steve to stop trying to waste his time when the soldier had tried to invite them to a movie.

He’d walked right out of the lab in a tantrum, and Steve had been left to stand there like a lost puppy.

“I don’t know why you try so hard, Cap,” Bruce had chuckled even though he’d been pleased. The rest of the team tended to leave them alone because they thought they preferred it, but had never thought that they just didn’t know what else to do. They didn’t know how to be around other people. If they overshared, or didn’t make much sense, or used disjointed too fast logic with each other then they just rolled with it. They understood each other’s too-fast, science jargon even if Bruce sometimes struggled a bit to catch up with Tony. The others… well, the others liked them just fine but couldn’t understand certain quirks that they just _got_ with each other.

Cap had given him a self-deprecating smirk and shaken his head. “What else can I do? He’s not the only one that can be stubborn.”

For the next two weeks, Tony had met with Bruce in one of the labs five days. He had grumbled and complained about Steve the whole five days. He’d manage to bring him up in every conversation, which is how Bruce discovered just how far gone the other man was for the super soldier. He’d tried to conceal it, of course, and a part of Bruce understood that Tony was _ashamed_ of it because that’s all he’d ever known. Then, Pepper had walked out and Tony had come crumbling down.

On the night it happened, the genius had decided that he’d been cooped up in the tower long enough and thought he deserved a night out. To _distract himself_ as if everyone didn’t know what that was a euphemism for. He had announced it loudly during an impromptu lunch that all the Avengers had been present to. Bruce had kept his eyes on Steve as Tony said this, the genius completely steam rolling over the various incredulous stares and eye rolls from the team, and had seen the way his hand crushed over the glass he’d been filling with juice. The shards had cut into his palm, but he didn’t seem to care.

When Tony had stumbled into the tower at 3 am the next morning, Bruce had been going up from a very fascinating experiment he was conducting for a late night snack. He wasn’t all that tired, and he knew he could keep it up for at least six more hours. He wasn’t as bad at keeping sleeping schedules as his fellow scientist, but he had been known for having a bender or two. He’d heard noise from somewhere down the hall as he’d been getting some guava juice from the fridge, and had decided to follow it thinking the others had had a late night movie marathon.

“All right, Tony, now the other shoe,” as soon as he heard his best friend’s name Bruce had hurried to the elevator. Steve was leaning a very drunk Tony onto the wall next to the elevator as he tried to take the genius’s shoes off. “Come on, buddy, let’s get these off and then I can take you to bed. You’re soaked, Tones.”

“She lef’, ‘Teve, ‘ow coul’ she ‘eave li’e tha’? Said, she said, ‘Can’t be wi’ you ‘cause you don’ ‘ove me th’same way ‘nymo’” Dear Christ, how much had he drunk that night? He kept going as Steve made him lean on his shoulder with one had; Bruce noted the utter trust Tony had on the other man to not let him fall. “Wass tha’ even mean, ‘Teve?” and then, very quietly that Bruce almost didn’t notice, but he noted the way Steve’s head snapped up. “’Ow she kno’, ‘Teve? ‘Ow she notice w’en I did’n till—till…” he trailed off as if trying to estimate the date was too complicated.

Before the soldier could dive into a conversation they really shouldn’t have when one of them was drunk off his ass, Bruce walked over to hold Tony up as Steve continued to try to get the shoe off as Tony circled his ankle to make the process harder, and giggled when Steve gave an exasperated sigh. Bruce rolled his eyes and told him to behave. Together, they managed to get Tony’s shoes and his soaking suit jacket off and dump them next to the elevator. When they’d finished, Steve heaved him up bridal styled and moved towards his room.

“You’ll keep him with you, then?” Bruce had said, trying his hardest to conceal his laughter. Well, what did you know, it seemed as Stark wasn’t the only pinning one.

Steve had turned around with a sheepish grin and a bright blush on his cheeks. He readjusted Tony more securely to his chest as he shrugged. “What else can I do? Someone has to make sure he doesn’t die or something overnight.” He’d been gone before Bruce could reply.

The last time Bruce remembers hearing him say those words was right before Ultron happened. When Steve had come back from the last mission he’d ever do for SHIELD with a new teammate in tow, and a shell shocked expression on his face. It had happened after the weeks of distracted conversations and trips out of state looking after leads. When Steve would gently lead Tony from his shoulder to get up and answer a call from Sam about yet another cold lead. It happened just before their worst fights to day, and one of the more public ones. They’d been having another impromptu movie night when the phone had rung, and it was like suddenly the whole room could feel the tension spiking.

Wordlessly, with a horrible twisting to his mouth, Tony had leaned away from where he’d just seconds before been resting his head against Steve’s shoulder. He’d snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned, and had kept his eyes trained on the television. Bruce had seen Natasha give Steve a small shake of her head, her eyes snapping from one to the other, but the soldier had sighed and gotten out of the room. The soft, defeated _“Sam, yeah, what do you…”_ trailing out of the room. Bruce had seen the clenching of Tony’s fists against his thighs.

When Steve came back, everyone had tried to pretend nothing had happened. Natasha had commented on something from the movie, and Clint had given a sarcastic and lewd comment back. Nobody looked at the pair, pretending desperately in the hopes of making things right again, when the quiet “Tony, come on,” had taken their attention back to them. Steve had been trying to wrap his arm around the genius’s shoulders but he’d kept inching away from him as if he couldn’t bear the thought of being touched by him.

“When are you leaving?” He’d said so quietly that they almost missed it. Almost missed the shimmering in his eyes or the way his hand had gone up to a reactor that hadn’t been there yet. Steve didn’t, of course, he’d always had that single focus when it came to Tony. He’d moved his hand to cup Tony’s cheek but the other man had moved to the corner of the sofa as if he couldn’t bear the thought of being touched by him. “Just asking so I know when to start feeling like your dirty little secret.”

“Don’t,” Steve had told him. It was clear from the way he said it that it hadn’t been their first argument about it. “I have to know if it’s him. Baby, you know I do. You know that if it was Rhodey you wouldn’t rest until you found him. Rhodey’s done the same for _you_ before, tell me how it’s any different.”

Tony had stared at him for a long time. They were all trying so desperately not to intervene; not to take Tony’s focus away from the mystery that was Bucky’s existence; not to try to explain Cap’s side. They’d tried so hard to stay out of the argument that they’d done nothing. Had allowed Tony to get off his seat with an incredulous sort of look on his face as he looked at the soldier. Had allowed Steve to get up as well and try to reach for Tony only to have the genius slap his hand away. They’d both frozen for a minute, not completely sure if it had actually happened, before Tony had gritted his teeth.

“You’re right, there is no difference,” there was so much sarcasm in his voice. Unchecked skepticism and cruelty in the way he spat his words at the soldier. “Other than the fact that Rhodey wasn’t making anyone feel like his mistress every time he went and looked for me. Rhodey wasn’t out of his _home_ eleven months out of the year looking for a murderer. The difference, _Captain Rogers_ , is that I would never, _ever_ hurt you trying to save him.”

“Sweetheart, I never meant—“

“No one ever means to,” Tony had said over Steve. He’d walked away before he could see the damage his words had done. He hadn’t seen the stricken expression on Steve’s face as if he’d been gutted with five words. Hadn’t seen the way the soldier’s lips pressed together, and hadn’t heard the way his breath had rattled in his chest.

Tony hadn’t been there to see the soldier’s hands tightening into fists, or the determined set to his jaw. With an angry huff, he’d wiped at his eyes harshly. He’d walked out of the room without another glance at his teammates.

Hours later when Bruce had gone down to the workshop to try to talk some sense into Tony, he’d been baffled to find Steve with his back against the blacked out window. He’d thought he was gone on a run, or he’d left to wherever Sam had been. Instead, he’d been leaning against the thumping walls of the workshop with his eyes closed.

“You going to wait for him all night?” Bruce had asked him as he settled next to the soldier to accompany him in his vigil.

“What else can I do?” Again, that self-deprecating twist to his mouth.

“He won’t be willing to talk,” Bruce had pointed out and smiled when Steve let out a harsh laugh.

“When is he ever, but that’s never stopped me before,” Steve had told him as he closed his eyes again. Quietly, as if confessing a deep secret, he’d continued with, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop chasing him no matter how much we screw up.”

                                                                        ***

“Remember that time when you waited for him for hours outside of his workshop to make up for hurting him?” Steve’s solemn eyes meet his and he nods his head quietly. “You told me you’d never stop chasing him. I think now is included in that _never_ , Steve.”

“He’s going to ha-hate me,” Steve said wretchedly. “I worked so damn hard to make him trust me, and then—“

“You screwed up,” Bruce finished for him. The Captain gives a miserable nod as he continues that incessant stroking of Tony’s wrist. Every so often, his hand would run up and down his arm which is how Bruce catches the first glimpse at his scratched arms. _Goddamn, what have they done to each other._ He tears his eyes from those haunting marks on the Captain’s arms to meet Steve’s gaze. “That doesn’t mean that you meant what you said back then any less. It doesn’t erase everything you did to make him realize he was better than he thought he was. Maybe the change isn’t as great for you because you always saw him for… well, for who he actually was, but I saw him grow up, Steve. I saw him stop listening to Howard and start listening to you. To himself. You can screw that up by being a coward _now_.

“Rhodey said—he said—he told me he’d wish I was dead. He—well, he screamed at me that he would wish I was dead when he wakes up, and I can’t,” his words choke on a sob. Bruce places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze, though he knows how insufficient it is. “I can’t see how he _wouldn’t_ when I wish for the same thing. How can I stand under his gaze and not wish I was dead instead?”

Bruce is saved from saying anything, because what can he say? How can he make him feel better? How can he explain to one of his friends that they’d both been wrong? How can you comfort a victim and let him know that he can’t feel guilty for surviving? How can he tell him he’s not wrong when he’d fought his lover for his best friend, his brother, _the only family he’d had for years?_ What is there to say?

But Bruce doesn’t have to answer because there’s sudden movement from the bed. Steve launches himself forward, his hands coming clutch at Tony’s hands again as the man heaves a huge breath. They stay frozen as Tony’s eyes slowly blink open, and he stare blearily around the room before finally noticing them. There’s a questioning noise from him when he notices Bruce, but then his eyes snap to Cap. They widen, and his mouth forms words that they can’t hear. He flounders for a moment before they hear a raspy, labored “ _’Teve.”_

Then Cap’s hands cup his lover’s and there are medical personnel running into the room, and Clint drops from a vent and then runs out to tell the others and there’s so much confusion that Bruce is sure it’s inaudible, but he still says “that’s how.”

And maybe Cap hears him because he raises his tearstained face to give Bruce a determined nod.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, man, Bruce is a scientist, ya know? I feel as though he'd need to look at all the variables to make a decision. I think he's the type of person that knows about pain enough to not try to Hulk Smash anyone who's feeling it too.  
> This. Got. Me. In. All. The. Feels! I hope you guys like it... *sigh*


End file.
